


Deconstructing the Myth

by alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Original Character(s), POV Alternating, Preventers (Gundam Wing), Vignette, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 01:45:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14070195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist/pseuds/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist
Summary: by Ravengirl--This is a series of vignettes which address some of the more exaggerated characteristics Duo is often given. 02 is seen through the eyes of four friends... and one other who is considerably more.





	1. Ignorant Supposition #1: The Mindless Jester

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

"He's nothing like they say at the Academy."  
  
I looked up at the man standing in my office, a fellow agent so green his badge still had that new-minted shine. He was peering over the thick pile of files he held, at a photo tacked to my crowded corkboard.  
  
Taken at the end of the Eve War, it showed Yuy, Maxwell and myself, standing in front of Wing Zero. As per the usual, 02 was draped all over us, holding a mocking pair of bunny ears behind 01's head and generally hamming it up for the camera.  
  
"To whom do you refer, Agent?"  
  
The boy looked uncomfortable.  
  
"No disrespect intended, Agent Steel. Both of you are, um, highly regarded for tactics and training, it's just... Preventer Shade has a rep for practical jokes 'n stuff, you know? One of our instructors used to say that he never knew when to shut up and wouldn't recognize 'professional' if it bit him."  
  
As soon as the words left his mouth, the kid turned a pasty white that matched his code name. He stared at me with wide-eyed trepidation, waiting for my wrath to fall on his rather deserving head.  
  
Duo isn't the only one whom unwelcome notoriety follows around.  
  
Instead of laying into the young fool, I gave him a tight-lipped smile.  
  
"I could present you a long list of reasons why *not* to believe everything you hear, Agent Blanc, but you'll learn them yourself, eventually. You could do worse than to emulate Shade. The only Preventer with more successfully completed missions on his record is Agent Light... you do know they used to call him the Perfect Soldier?  
  
Although, speaking of names..." I paused for effect, "a man does not achieve a moniker such as 'The God of Death' for no reason... don't you agree?"  
  
His face went from pale to crimson in a matter of seconds, the dark blush clashing rudely with the regulation white button-down beneath his uniform jacket. Stuttering an incomprehensible apology, he scuttled off, nearly running Duo ­ who'd just come through the door ­ over in his haste.  
  
Maxwell shot a puzzled look at Blanc's retreating backside then shrugged and sauntered lazily towards me, take-out sacks in either hand. Tossing me one of the bags, he arched a questioning brow in my direction.  
  
"What's with the newbie? You give him one of your mental wedgies?" A finger wagged itself playfully at me. "Naughty 'Fei... haven't I told you that skewering the other kiddies just ain't company manners?"  
  
I snorted, opening my order to make sure it contained the correct dish. Last time, they gave me lemon chicken instead of pork stir- fry with snow peas and mushrooms. Morons.  
  
"Nothing wrong with him that a few real assignments and a lot more experience won't cure," I muttered.  
  
Duo's eyes warmed with understanding and he gave me what I think of as his 'real' smile: lopsided and rueful with just a hint of self- mockery.  
  
"Don't let 'em get to you, man, they don't know us. All they see is the image, you know? Hard not to, with the bullshit propaganda from the wars backing it up."  
  
Grabbing my hands, he yanked me up from my chair and draped a long arm over my shoulders.  
  
"C'mon, partner, we'll go sit in the park and get some fresh air. All this paperwork's givin' me hives. And I'm freakin' hungry! Let's eat before it gets cold, this time, huh?"  
  
I was laughing as he snatched the still-warm bags and pulled me out the door towards a sunny day. Duo inspires laughter... just not the way most people think.


	2. Ignorant Supposition #2: The Reckless Adrenaline-Junkie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Ravengirl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

"Sector five clear, boss." I said into my lip-mic, my voice the near-soundless murmur used by agents in enemy territory.  
  
"The intel was clean, then. 01 inside their system yet?"  
  
I glanced over at my partner. Blue-white illumined Heero's face as data scrolled endlessly down the computer screen in front of him.   
  
"Affirmative, 02."  
  
Somehow, we'd never gotten beyond our war-time numerics. They fit like a comfortable Tee soft with years of washing, and whenever any of us worked together, we found ourselves falling into old, familiar patterns.  
  
"I said *no*. You will stay right here until my mark, Agent Draco, and you may consider that an order!"  
  
Maxwell's angry voice hissed into my com, startling me. If you could shout a whisper, he'd just done it.  
  
"02?"  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Sorry, 03. I'm stuck babysitting you-know-who today, trigger-happy little fuck that he is."  
  
I laughed silently.   
  
Usually Chang would be at Duo's back, sharp and deadly as his code- name. 'Fei was laid-up though ­ bed-bound by a nasty case of strep and his gun-toting girlfriend ­ and damned unhappy about letting us go off without him. Especially when Duo got landed with Jeffrey Dillinger as temp partner.  
  
A senator's kid, Dillinger was as pretentious and arrogant a little weasel as ever I'd had the displeasure of meeting. At twenty-five, with three years of Preventer work behind him, he thought he was the shit and made no secret of his belief that we Gundam pilots were his inferiors in everything up-to-and-including ability.   
  
Never mind that we'd been fighting and killing while he'd been getting his first blow-job in the back seat of Daddy's Beemer.  
  
It stuck in the man's craw that we had tested out of most Academy classes... we'd only needed instruction in the dos and don'ts of Preventer procedure and a run-down on Earth Sphere law.   
  
The five of us regularly defeated the organizations most of our colleagues had worked for. Expecting us to take instruction from them was laughable.  
  
Dillinger ­ or Agent Draco ­ hated our swift advancement through the ranks, and reserved his special brand of malice for Heero and Duo, under whose authority he often fell.   
  
Unfortunately for all of us, his long-time partner had recently been killed in the line of duty, leaving him available for this particular mission.  
  
"Data transfer complete."  
  
I nodded briefly to Heero before turning my attention back to the surveillance screens in front of me. Maxwell and Dillinger were on none of them, not surprisingly. Their job was to make sure our chosen exit remained free of hostiles. Once Heero dropped his virus into the system, all hell was gonna break loose.  
  
"Virus deployment in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... active. Let's go, Verde."  
  
"We're heading your way, 02," I informed Duo.  
  
"Roger that, 03. The back door is wide open. Get your asses out."  
  
We were halfway through the maze of hallways when it happened. Duo's "Shit!" was all the warning we got before the sounds of a fire- fight exploded over our coms.  
  
"02, report!" Heero barked into his mic as we increased our pace.  
  
"Sonnofabitch! Fucking moron moved! Guys, better go to backup. This exit's compromised. I gotta get dumbfuck and myself out fast and you're not gonna be able to do much."  
  
"Negative 02, I am on my way," Heero gritted through clenched teeth.  
  
"Love you too, babe, but I gave you an order," Duo's voice held an intimate, laughing note that clutched painfully at my throat. "I'm lead and if I say go, you go."  
  
The mics crackled as Maxwell returned fire and his erratic breathing told me he was mobile and running.   
  
"Get him out, 03!" he shouted over the noise. "We went over this already!"  
  
"Affirmative, 02. See you on the outside."  
  
I grabbed Yuy's arm as he went by me, halting his rush. He turned on me like an angry leopard, all wild blue eyes, spitting fury, and point-blank aim.  
  
"Don't get in my way 03."  
  
"We don't have time for this 01," I said calmly. "02 trusts us not to fuck up the mission. We have to trust that he can get himself to safety."  
  
We stood there, eyes locked, for what seemed like hours but was probably only a few seconds. Finally Yuy's body relaxed and the gun he had leveled at me lowered.  
  
"Heero, if Duo said he'd meet us, he will," I told him quietly.  
  
He nodded curtly and turned back the way we'd come.  
  
"Let's move."  
  
We all made it out that day. Duo and his much-chastened leg-iron were waiting for us at the extraction point and when Heero solemnly handed Maxwell a detonator, you'd have thought it was a freakin' proposal, the way 02 just lit up.  
  
Blowing the place sky-high wasn't in the plans, but those had been shot to hell and back already and we couldn't afford the possibility of pursuit. The Blackhawk-SR70 sent to retrieve us rose swiftly, a fiery flower blossoming in its wake.  
  
I stared into the heart of billowing flame and listened to the low- voiced conversation going on behind me.  
  
"Don't ever do that again."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't doubt me, Yuy. I trained for this shit almost as long as you. And don't forget who hauled *your* ass out of an Alliance hospital, not so many years ago."  
  
"I am sorry. I just..."  
  
A deep sigh.  
  
"I know, man. You got this whole 'protector' thing going on, but you gotta remember: I ain't Relena. I don't need a goddamn knight, I need reliable backup. Tro gave me that today. You didn't. Then I had pansy-ass over there on my hands... remind me to ream him a new one later."  
  
"Alright. Duo?"  
  
"Um?"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
" 'S okay Hee-man. I know you can't help it."  
  
Turning my head slightly, I watched them from under my lashes. They were slumped together, Duo's head on Heero's shoulder, the long braid clenched firmly in 01's hand. Looking at them, all I could think of was Quatre and how much I wanted to get home to him in one piece. Thanks to Duo, I would.  
  
There are several reasons Une regularly designates Maxwell as lead. He pays attention to his fellow agents... makes it his business to know our strengths and weaknesses and how to use them to the mission's advantage. He has the priceless ability to think on his feet. If the original plan doesn't work, he throws it out and comes up with something that does... usually while dodging live ammo.  
  
Yuy and Chang are both loners. They are neither leaders nor followers, and given the choice will work alone. I tend towards that direction, myself. The three of us are respected but not generally liked, and while we are competent at giving direction, it's not our métier.  
  
None of us has Maxwell's flexibility or the engaging personality that allows him to bring disparate attitudes together on a team... and make it work. He is not a by-the-book operative, by any means, and Preventers is the better for it.   
  
Some idiotic desk-jockeys call it 'flying by the seat of your pants' or 'criminal recklessness'. I call it years of experience coupled with a shitload of raw talent... and a little crazy Shinigami thrown in for good measure.   
  
Duo wouldn't be Duo, otherwise.


	3. Ignorant Supposition #3: The Bottomless Pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Ravengirl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

A pitiful moan sounded behind me as I took a tray and joined the rush-hour lunch line in Preventers' cafeteria.   
  
"Suck it up, Soldier," I said without turning. "Sometimes taking one for the team is just part of the job."  
  
"I hear ya, Fire, but *jeeze*... do they gotta make it look like it just crawled outta the garbage disposal?"  
  
I smothered my laugh at 02's tone of fascinated horror. Seeing that we'd just passed a pile of mystery meat and sauce labeled 'meatloaf surprise', I couldn't disagree with him. I had no desire to find out what the surprise was, either.  
  
"Well, Maxwell, since it ain't moving, can't say I see what *your* problem is."  
  
I felt the hair near the base of my skull lift at the malicious drawl. Next to me, Duo stiffened just slightly.  
  
We'd heard this kind of thing before, joking or otherwise (as today's smartass seemed to be). People figured that since Duo hailed from L2, he had the digestive tract of a goat and would eat anything that wasn't a) nailed down or b) obviously decomposing.   
  
Sure, it was an easy enough thing to laugh off the first several hundred times, but when your co-workers fought on the opposite side during a war, they tend to take 'friendly teasing' to extremes.   
  
I learned this small-but-salient fact after I began to see Chang Wufei as someone other than the person who'd destroyed the base at Victoria. My former colleagues simply could not understand that atrocities had been perpetuated by all sides... the Rebellion, the Alliance, White Fang, Romefeller and OZ were equally at fault, and the Gundams had had as little choice in their targets as we did in ours. Even less, in many cases.  
  
When you're a former Specials instructor with an ex-Gundam-pilot boyfriend, life gets more than a little complicated.  
  
I am, however, Preventer Fire: one of Une's first two agents. I have so much seniority, I don't even know what to do with it.   
  
Besides... I trained half these morons and they know it. I can say, with no little pride, that I scare the shit out of them. And if that means I'm able to use my 'intimidation factor' to help a friend... it's my pleasure.   
  
Duo is just too easy-going, sometimes.  
  
No one has ever accused me of such a failing.  
  
Nudging his arm, I smirked, tilted my head towards the lot behind us then jerked my thumb at the space in front of me. A tiny grin toyed with the edges of his wide mouth as we exchanged places.  
  
Slapping my still-empty tray on the buffet's counter, I frowned at the disgusting glop in the closest pan.  
  
"Well, Preventer, it seems there's some disagreement as to what constitutes edible food around here, hmn?"  
  
Turning my head just slightly, I raised a brow at my chosen victim, who promptly went rigid on seeing whose attention he'd attracted.   
  
Ah, yes... Chief Petty Officer Jenkins, sometime member of OZ's Cancer Fleet. Not one of mine, but that didn't matter. Mediocre submersible pilots had nothing on Taurus trainees for sheer arrogance. This was just too easy.  
  
"No disagreement, Agent Fire. Just a little joke between friends... isn't that right Maxwell?"  
  
"Your brand of humor must be too sophisticated for me, Jenkins," Duo remarked dryly. "The 'funny' part went right over my head."  
  
Shaking my head, I looked from Jenkins to the buffet pans and back.  
  
"I don't know, Agent... you've got me worried, now. Why don't you do us all a favor and take a taste... just in the interest of morale, you understand. Moira!"  
  
One of the counter ladies came over, bestowing a dimpled smile on me.  
  
"Afternoon, Ms. Noin... what can I get for ya today?"  
  
"Thanks, Moira, I'm going to have my usual, but this gentleman has expressed interest in the meatloaf surprise and," I checked the second pan's label, "the spinach casserole. Why don't you let him try a bite of each, just to see if he likes them?"  
  
From the corner of my eye, I caught the dubious glance Moira threw me, but kept Jenkins pilloried under my gaze. When she handed me a bread-plate and a spork, I held them out to him, my look promising weeks of hell if he didn't take his punishment like a man.  
  
The usually noisy cafeteria seemed to get quiet. I think most everyone had stopped eating to watch us. In front of me, Jenkins turned a little green as he cringingly chewed and swallowed, while at my back, Duo vibrated with silent laughter.  
  
When Jenkins finished, he handed Moira the plate with a muttered thanks.  
  
"Well, agent? Would you like a second helping?"  
  
Crossing my arms I glared at Jenkins and each of his cadre of morons in turn.  
  
"No, Sir, Lieutenant Noin, Sir," they chorused and I nodded a dismissal.  
  
Not waiting to witness their hasty retreat, I turned to find Duo collapsed against the counter.  
  
"My... my g-god. Warms the... cockles of my heart... to know... the memory of OZ... is alive and well... at Preventers," he gasped out, almost choking on his mirth. "They musta broke the mold after they made you, Noin."  
  
Sighing, I retrieved my tray.  
  
"Well, they don't build pilots the way they used to, at any rate," I agreed. "Come on, we've backed up the line long enough. Moira?"  
  
"Ms. Noin?"  
  
"I'd like a broiled chicken breast over caesar with a piece of your asiago/tomato focaccia on the side, and iced tea with lemon." I glanced at Duo, who'd perked up at the sound of real food. "Better double that order."  
  
"Just make mine coke, instead of tea," he added.  
  
"Sure thing," Moira said and smiled at us. "I'll bring those right out, Ms. Noin."  
  
Duo trailed after me towards the register, then stood there, hands on hips, regarding me with distinct displeasure.   
  
"How come you get the good stuff while the rest of us eat sawdust sandwiches, huh?"  
  
I smiled smugly.  
  
"Seniority does have a few perks, Maxwell. No," I held up a hand as he reached for his wallet, "it's on me today. My fault we're eating here instead of that little bistro on Fourth."  
  
Duo muttered something that sounded a lot like, "Damned lunch meetings."  
  
I ignored it, handed him his tray, and headed for the table the other members of our impromptu get-together had already colonized.  
  
Yuy and Zechs looked up as we sat down. Barton and 'Fei had their heads together over a bunch of files and Winner ­ our unofficial (read: unpaid civilian) tactician ­ scooted his chair over to make room for us.  
  
"Quite a show you two put on over there," my best friend drawled. "For a minute it was like being back in basic, watching the drill sergeant chop some poor schmuck into tiny, mortified pieces."  
  
"And you would know *so* much about that sort of thing, wouldn't you, Merquise?" I bared my teeth at him in a feral grin. "I still remember what happened when you informed Lt. Mertz that his accommodations were substandard."  
  
"Oooo, good one, Noin," Duo snickered. "You gonna let her get away with that Zechsy?"  
  
"Never mess with the woman who knows where all the bodies are buried," I stated calmly. "I am possibly the only person alive with photographic evidence of what happens when a certain blonde someone offends his superior officer, and said officer decides that long hair just isn't regulation."  
  
By the time I finished speaking, Duo was leaning against me, giggling uncontrollably. Wufei, Trowa and Heero were cat-calling loudly and ribbing Zechs while Quatre demanded proof.  
  
Merquise shot me a martyred look. I shrugged. Hey, he started it.  
  
Heero eventually peeled Duo off of me and the braided menace promptly crawled halfway into his lap. One arm around 02's shoulders, 01 prodded the ever-present folders toward the center of the table.  
  
"All right, people, we're here to eat and work, not necessarily in that order. Fire, you called this meeting... your show."  
  
"Certainly," I replied. "But I, for one, am going to do my eating first."  
  
That said, I stuck a defiant fork into my caesar salad.  
  
"That actually looks appetizing," I heard Heero murmur.  
  
"Yeah... some ex-OZzie dickhead thought today was a good day to raz the dumb kid from L2. Noin decided to make him eat it... literally. Then she got the lunch lady to get us something digestible."  
  
Yuy's throaty chuckle sounded. I always found myself surprised by the warmth of his laughter. During the war I couldn't have even imagined such a sound coming from Wing's emotionless pilot. It took Maxwell to bring out that side of him, I think.  
  
I shot a quick look at them. Duo was holding a forkful of chicken and romaine up to his partner's smiliing mouth, insisting that he try it, while Yuy protested, saying that he'd already eaten, and besides, Duo didn't get enough calories as it was.  
  
The two of them make me want to smile, the way they take care of each other. For a couple of people who'd never really had anyone to show them the whys and hows of loving, they seemed to catch on just fine.  
  
Dumb kid from L2? Riiiiiight...


	4. Ignorant Supposition #4: The Amoral L2 Slut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Ravengirl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

"Move your hand, Bradford, or I'm gonna _re_ move it for you."  
  
I paused with my fingers on the access panel of Duo's office door. He obviously had someone in there with him, and I recognized the hard note in his voice. 02's guest had managed to piss Shinigami off. I could hear The God of Death's calm, inhuman fury running through Duo's normally cheerful intonations.  
  
"Come off it Maxwell... I've seen you watching me."  
  
"Sheyeah, right." Duo's scorn was a palpable thing, even through the port's solid obstruction. "Lemme tell ya something, asswipe... you better trim that ego a little or pretty soon you ain't gonna be able to fit both yourself and it through Preventers main entrance. Now back... the fuck... _off."_  
  
Indecision took hold. On one hand, I wanted to enter immediately and put a stop to this distasteful episode. On the other, I knew Duo would not be happy with me for trying to 'save him'. He likes dealing with this kind of thing himself. If the offending party doesn't get the point the first time, they'll likely be back for round two.  
  
Deathscythe Hell's former pilot is one of the most attractive _\--_ in every sense of the word _\--_ people I've ever met. There is an unconscious sensuality to his movements... an aura of dangerous energy surrounding him which draws personalities of all kinds and both sexes to bask in the warmth that is Duo Maxwell.  
  
He is fire _\--_ hot, pulsing, radiant _\--_ and any number of people are more than willing to immolate themselves within the brilliance of his flame.  
  
Due to his antecedents, however, there are also a great many morons who refuse to look beyond his beauty of face and form. In the minds of such individuals, anyone who looks like Duo and has managed to drag themselves out of the squalor that is the L2 slums must have used their physical attributes to do so.  
  
My friends and fellow partners-in-crime have a phrase they use to refer to 'Quatre in one of his Moods' (note the capital 'm'). They call it 'going Zero'. I'm sure I don't have to tell you why this is.   
  
Honestly, most of the time, I don't see their justification for the description... doesn't everyone find incessant pen-tapping to be an aggravating habit? Wouldn't you want to take said writing instrument away from the person doing so and snap it in half?  
  
But that is beside the point. Because, if ever I felt the urge to 'go Zero' on anyone, it would be those who believe they are free to proposition Duo as if he was a rent-boy trolling for johns instead of a highly-respected field agent and veteran of two bloody wars.  
  
Luckily, Duo himself usually stops things before they pass the point of no return.   
  
Of course, nine times out of ten, Yuy catches the twits, previous to them even appearing on Duo's horizon. I'm slightly embarrassed to admit I enjoy watching the fools go through 01's very short, extremely brutal training course in the art of: 'You-even- _look_ -at-Maxwell-the-wrong-way-again-and-I'll-kill-you-and-oh darn-was-that-your-finger-I-just-broke?'  
  
I know for a fact Une and Noin find the whole thing hilarious. I passed them in the hall after one such incident while they were still leaning against each other, hands stifling laughter, tears streaming from mirth-squinted eyes. A pair of more genteel, more blood-thirsty ladies you will never meet.  
  
Except, perhaps, Doro Catalonia. I hear she's working Homicide, these days. I'm sure it suits her quite admirably.  
  
A flurry of sound from behind the door drew my attention back to the here-and-now. A thud, a sharp crack and a pained groan issued forth in quick succession. I took the subsequent silence as my cue to enter.  
  
Duo had a dark-suited man pinned to his wall. Both the guy's arms were pulled back and up... he didn't look very comfortable. In fact, his facial features were rather interestingly contorted.   
  
Turning his head as I stepped into the office, Duo grinned cheerfully at me.  
  
"Be with you in a minute Q, soon as I finish up this conference with Vice." He turned his attention back to his prisoner. "So Bradford... we gonna play ring-around-the-Gundam some more, or do you wanna be a smart boy and take a fall?"  
  
"Fall," the man gasped as his right hand was jerked higher.  
  
"Am I gonna have to do this again?"  
  
"N-no."  
  
"No _what?_ "  
  
"No sir!"  
  
"Damn straight." 02 released the quivering wrists. "Now get the fuck out of my office. Come near me again, and I'll have you up in front of the Commander on harassment charges faster than you can say 'dishonorable discharge'. Do I make myself clear, Agent?"  
  
"Yessir!"  
  
The minute Duo's attention left him, Bradford slunk by me and through the port with all due haste. Heaving a gusty sigh, Duo dropped into his chair and used his foot to shove another in my direction.  
  
"Close the door and have a seat, Quat. I've got the specs on the Di Paloma operation around here somewhere; I just didn't have time to find 'em since Preventer Dipshit decided to grace me with his presence. I swear, half those guys over in Vice think they're God's gift to the undeserving populace."  
  
"Tough morning?" I asked cautiously, watching him root through his files.  
  
He stopped suddenly and scrubbed a hand over his face. His eyes, when they met mine, were dark-circled and weary.   
  
The care-worn expression sparked a pang in my chest. Duo was far too young to wear such a look, but it was one I had seen etched on my own features, from time to time.   
  
You can't fight the way we did and come away unscathed, and one of the first prices war exacts is youth. Once you pick up a gun with intent to kill, you age quickly.   
  
"No more than usual," he said tiredly. "I just get sick of it all, you know? When do I get to let down my guard and stop fighting? Will my damned training even allow me to? I dunno, Q... sometimes life seems futile. It's like we run around in circles trying to get somewhere impossible to reach... then we die. What's the fucking point?"  
  
I opened my mouth to respond, though I'm still not sure what I would have said. I only knew that leaving him in this frame of mind was unacceptable and I intended to stick around as long as was needed to bring him out of it.   
  
As it happened, though, I wasn't the one to accomplish that task.  
  
Before I could get a word out, the door slid open again and a wonderful cinnamony smell wafted in. Behind the delectable scent came Heero, white paper bakery bag in one hand, foam cup in the other. His head was turned as he spoke quietly to someone behind him and I caught a quick glimpse of my better half's long bangs before they vanished.  
  
Then Heero looked at Duo and suddenly that shining happiness was back in 02's eyes. The generous mouth curved gently as Light strode over and carefully placed his bag in the middle of the paper-strewn desk.  
  
Duo snatched it up immediately, unfolding the top and practically burying his face in the sack to inhale the fragrance of whatever it held.  
  
"Here, 04. Compliments of 03."  
  
Startled, I took the covered cup Heero held out to me. Cracking the lid a little, I sniffed. I know my smile must have been as wide as Duo's. Pure, 100% gourmet Arabian roast, hot as hell and sweet as love. Ahhhh... Trowa knows me way too well.  
  
I sipped my treat and Duo proceeded to devour his fresh apple scone, little moans of pleasure escaping him every so often. No doubt he'd forgotten breakfast, as usual.   
  
Heero stayed, leaning against the desk with arms crossed as he watched his mate from under unruly chocolate bangs.  
  
"Saw Bradford in the bullpen on the way up here," 01 said in his abrupt manner.  
  
Duo licked a crumb from one thumb.  
  
"Yep."  
  
A coffee-dark brow rose.  
  
"The Chandler case?"  
  
02 studiously avoided intent cobalt eyes.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Hn."  
  
I hid my smile in the cup.   
  
Leaning forward, Heero brushed his lips over Duo's before turning briskly on one heel and marching out. Shade watched him go, a little grin of sleek satisfaction on his face. Then he looked at me and the grin turned sly.  
  
"So, how'd Tro know you were here?"  
  
I could feel the flush rise in a scarlet tide from my neck to my cheeks. Damn my fair complexion, anyway. Aren't Arabs supposed to be swarthy?  
  
"I _\--_ um _\--_ stopped by his office earlier," I muttered, knowing Duo and his deviant mind would put their own spin on things.  
  
He snickered, as expected, then shot from his chair like a coiled spring to attack his file cabinets with more enthusiasm than I'd seen from him in a while.  
  
"Okay, buddy, most of the stuff you want'll be in the Ds, but I just know I shoved some of it in the Ps, so why don't you check over there, while I look in here?"  
  
"Why the Ps?" I asked idly, pulling one packed drawer out.  
  
"P for prick... 'cause Giovanni Di Paloma is one," he replied succinctly and I snorted with laughter.  
  
As I leafed through surprisingly well-organized files, I mused on the benefits of afternoon scones and fractured bones. I couldn't help the small smile that formed as I thought about what was most likely going on one floor down.   
  
The day was shaping up nicely, indeed.


	5. Ignorant Supposition #5: The Loudmouthed Baka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Ravengirl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

****The first time I saw Duo Maxwell, he did his damnedest to kill me.  
  
Alright, so maybe that statement's a bit dramatic, besides being somewhat inaccurate. It _is_ true that his near-flawless aim helped put me out of commission long enough for the Alliance to ship me off to one of their military hospitals.  
  
Whenever this subject comes up (which is more often than one might think), he is quick to point out the fact that _\--_ while he might previously have punched a few negligible holes in my limbs _\--_ he also pulled my ass out of said hospital and gave Wing back to me the second time we met.   
  
Which point brings me up-to-date on today's Monday-morning quarterbacking session.  
  
"Wish I'd been there for the final act. Watching the pair of you plummet several hundred feet would've made my day."  
  
Chang smirks at me over his coffee mug and I am seized by the very Maxwellian compulsion to stick my tongue out at him. I resist.  
  
"You mean Heero's attempted swan-dive into eternity," Duo mutters.  
  
"Almost anything would have been better than listening to you run your mouth non-stop for the next day-and-a-half," I retort.  
  
Unlike myself, 02 sees no reason not to descend into puerile crudity, and I am promptly treated to an exceptionally vulgar gesture.  
  
"Whatever, Yuy. At the time, I wasn't aware that a vow of silence was the fastest way into your spandex."  
  
A sputtering wheeze directs my attention towards Wufei, who has managed to spray coffee in a ten-foot radius while laughing his L5 ass off. I roll my eyes towards the ceiling in supplication.  
  
At this point, nothing short of divine intervention will save me from being tag-teamed by the Dynamic Duo. And in case there's some confusion, that means 02 and 05 together in obnoxious harmony.  
  
The gods must be listening, though, since Barton sticks his head in the doorway while Chang is still snickering, and hikes his one visible eyebrow in my direction.   
  
"Off and on Yuy. We're active."  
  
I look back at Duo as I walk out. His wide, warm mouth is stretched in a gamine grin and I am gripped by the sudden, almost irresistible desire to go back and kiss it right off him.  
  
He knows it, too. His tongue swipes his full lower lip, leaving glistening flesh in its wake. His eyes promise laughing retribution but his lips are an open invitation to luxurious sin. I duck through the port before my unruly hormones coerce me into taking him up on it.  
  
"Bring him back in one piece, Tro," my lover calls after us and 03's quiet chuckle sounds in response.  
  
"Maxwell loves getting the last word in," my partner remarks in amused affection and I silently concur.  
  
It is only the truth, after all.  
  
+  
  
I am obsessed with Duo Maxwell's mouth. I have been for years and a variety of reasons.  
  
The third time I met him, I saved his life, told him we were even, then left before my L2 nemesis could shoot off one of his wise-ass comebacks. I was determined, in that instance, that the final word would be mine.  
  
Our previous encounter had left me confused by his easy camaraderie and smarting from his carelessly cutting remarks. I was a fifteen-year-old boy who'd no idea how to interact with others of his age-group and to me, Duo was as exotic a creature as a jungle-dwelling panther... and infinitely more terrifying.   
  
With the cat, at least, you knew where you stood. Kill or be eaten. Duo offered no such assurances.  
  
None of my training had covered razor-tongued, perpetually-in-motion, frighteningly-intelligent American bakas, and when life suddenly presented one, he scared the hell out of me. The only thing I could do was study this new threat and decide how best to combat it.   
  
So I watched while he wasn't looking. I listened when he thought I was ignoring him. Slowly-but-surely... I learned.  
  
I learned that there is both rhyme and reason to Shinigami's rhetoric. I listened for the carefully chosen silences between random words. I discovered the subtle language of motion for which no words are necessary. And I became fascinated by the expression and shape of the human mouth.  
  
With all these brilliant insights and observations, it still took me years to realize that my fascination was solely for one particular pair of lips. Duo refers to my inability to see the forest for the trees as 'book-smart, life-dumb'.   
  
He forgives me my ignorance, though... forgives me for making him wait while I watched and deliberated and slowly drew my conclusions.  
  
Duo's absolution is more overwhelmingly satisfying than any priest's benediction. The first time his mouth touched mine, I finally began to comprehend the reality of the peace we'd fought and bled and almost died for.   
  
Today, I sit at this table in one of Preventers many conference rooms, observing his interactions with our team, following the eloquence of his body, watching the movement of his mouth with the same single-minded intensity of six years ago, and I learn him anew.   
  
Duo Maxwell, Pilot 02, is the stuff of legend. He is every outrageous tale, every myth... every fantasy ever dreamed. Every single piece of him, from his 'no guts, no glory' war-time heroics to the shining tip of his chestnut braid, inspires awe and controversy wherever he goes.  
  
He is an eloquent, ever-shifting enigma looking out from behind the most gorgeous pair of violet eyes I've seen. More than any of us, he has adapted to our strange, new existence with the grace and perseverance of a true survivor.  
  
Duo is many things to many people: loyal friend, trustworthy confidant... steadfast partner in a world where peace is still a fragile, easily shattered commodity. Whatever ill-informed speculation clings to him _\--_ however he may be perceived by humanity as a whole _\--_ he moves through life with the confidence of a man who knows precisely who is he and where he wants to go.  
  
Across the table from me, he suddenly looks up, his eyes searching. They meet mine and something indefinable in him settles, calms. The heated glow of those eyes caresses me silently, telling me without words what I already know.  
  
Over the years I've known him, Duo Maxwell has worn a multitude of faces. The joker, the siren, the God of Death... he is all of these things and none. But whoever and whatever he might eventually become, there is one thing he has always been. Will always be.  
  
Mine.

Fin.


End file.
